[adapted]

by
Nathaniel Hawthorne

Near the end of the last century, there lived a very smart man who studied science. He was an expert in many areas of natural science. Not long before this story begins, something happened that changed his life. He fell in love. This love felt stronger than anything he had ever felt for science.

He left his lab in the hands of his helper, cleaned the smoke from his face, washed the stains of chemicals off his fingers, and asked a beautiful woman to marry him.

In those days, people were excited about new discoveries like electricity. Some scientists believed that if they kept learning more and more, one day they could discover how to create life itself. They thought they might even be able to make new worlds.

We do not know if this man, named Aylmer, believed he could do all that. But we do know he had spent so much time studying science that nothing else had ever pulled him away from it. His love for his new wife was very strong—but it was strongest when it was mixed with his love for science. This mix of love and science led to something strange and important.

One day, not long after the wedding, Aylmer looked at his wife with a worried face. He kept looking at her, and the worry grew until he finally spoke.

“Georgiana,” he said, “have you ever thought that the little mark on your cheek could be removed?”

“No, never,” said Georgiana with a smile. But when she saw that her husband looked very serious, she blushed. “To be honest, so many people have said it looks like a charm that I thought maybe it really was.”

“Ah, maybe it would be charming on someone else,” said Aylmer. “But not on you. No, my dear Georgiana, you were made so close to perfect by Nature that even this tiniest flaw—whether it is a flaw or a beauty—feels wrong. It reminds me that you are not perfect.”

“You’re shocked by it, my husband?” Georgiana said, hurt. At first, her face turned red with anger, but then she began to cry. “Then why did you take me away from my mother? You can’t love something that shocks you!”

To explain this conversation, we must say that Georgiana had a special mark in the middle of her left cheek. It looked as if it was part of her skin. Her face usually had a healthy but soft pink color, and the mark was a darker red. This made it hard to clearly see the shape of the mark. When she blushed, the mark seemed to fade away as her whole cheek turned red. But when she turned pale, the mark stood out again—like a red stain on white snow. Aylmer sometimes thought it looked too clear and even scary.

The mark looked a bit like a tiny human hand. Georgiana’s lovers used to say that a fairy had touched her cheek when she was born and left a magic handprint. They believed this mark showed she had powers to win everyone’s heart. Many men said they would risk their lives just to kiss the tiny hand.

Still, not everyone liked it. Some people—only women—said the red hand made her less beautiful, even ugly. But saying that was like calling a small blue spot on perfect white marble ugly—it made no sense. Most men thought the mark didn’t hurt her beauty at all. If anything, they only wished it gone so she could be truly perfect. After marrying Georgiana—because he didn’t care much about it before—Aylmer realized he felt the same way. He wished the mark would go away.

If Georgiana had been less beautiful—if there had been anything else to complain about—Aylmer might have found the little red hand charming. It showed more clearly when she felt strong emotions, like her heart was making it glow. But since she seemed perfect in every other way, this one small mark started to bother him more and more. He saw it as the one flaw that Nature gives all things, to remind us that nothing is truly perfect and that everything must one day fade or die. To Aylmer, the red hand became a symbol that even the most beautiful people must still face sin, sadness, age, and death. The more he thought this way, the more terrible the birthmark seemed to him. It even brought him more pain and fear than Georgiana’s beauty ever brought him joy.

At all the moments that should have been happy, Aylmer would, without meaning to, bring up the topic of the birthmark. At first, it seemed like a small thing, but over time it became the only thing he could think about. Every morning, when he looked at his wife’s face, the first thing he noticed was the mark. And in the evenings, when they sat together by the fire, his eyes would quietly return to her cheek. The light of the flames would make the red mark glow like a ghostly hand. Georgiana began to feel afraid whenever he looked at her that way. Just one glance from him, with that certain expression on his face, would make her face turn pale. And against that pale skin, the red hand stood out even more—like a shiny red stone carved into white marble.

One night, as the lights in the room were growing dim and the mark on her cheek was hard to see, Georgiana herself brought up the subject for the first time.

“Do you remember, dear Aylmer,” said Georgiana, trying to smile, “do you remember a dream last night about this awful hand?”

“No! No, I don’t!” Aylmer said quickly, surprised. Then, trying to hide how deeply the question affected him, he added in a calm, flat voice, “I might have dreamed of it, since I was thinking about it so much before falling asleep.”

“So you did dream of it?” said Georgiana quickly, afraid she might cry before she finished. “It was a terrible dream! I can’t believe you forgot it. Can you really not remember this one thing you said?—‘It is in her heart now; we must have it out!’ Think, my husband, because I really want you to remember that dream.”

The mind is troubled when even Sleep—who is supposed to keep dreams quiet and hidden—lets them escape and bring fear into our waking life. Aylmer now remembered the dream. He had imagined that he and his assistant Aminadab were trying to remove the birthmark with surgery. But the deeper he cut, the deeper the mark sank—until the tiny red hand seemed to be holding on to Georgiana’s heart. Still, in the dream, Aylmer was determined to cut it out.

As the memory of the dream became clear, Aylmer sat silently with his wife, feeling guilty. Often, the truth comes to us in dreams, even when we lie to ourselves while we’re awake. Until now, Aylmer hadn’t realized how much this one idea—removing the birthmark—had taken over his thoughts, or how far he might be willing to go just to feel at peace.

“Aylmer,” said Georgiana seriously, “I don’t know what it might cost us to get rid of this terrible birthmark. Maybe removing it will leave me badly scarred. Or maybe the mark goes as deep as my life itself. Do we even know if it’s possible to open the tight grip of this tiny hand that was placed on me before I was born?”

“My dearest Georgiana, I’ve thought about this a lot,” Aylmer said quickly. “I’m sure it can be removed.”

“If there’s even the smallest chance,” Georgiana went on, “then try it, no matter the risk. I don’t care about danger. This mark makes me feel like I’m disgusting to you. Life, like this, is too heavy to carry—I would gladly give it up. Either take away this awful hand, or take my life! You are a great scientist. Everyone knows how smart you are. You’ve done amazing things. Can’t you remove this tiny mark, which I can cover with just two fingers? Is this really too hard for you, even for your own peace of mind and to save your poor wife from going mad?”

“My noble, dear, loving wife!” cried Aylmer with joy. “Don’t doubt what I can do. I’ve already thought deeply about this—so deeply that I’ve almost learned how to create a human being! You, Georgiana, have brought me deeper into science than ever before. I truly believe I can make your cheek just as perfect as the other. And then—oh, how proud I will be when I fix what Nature left imperfect in her most beautiful creation! Not even Pygmalion felt more joy when his statue came to life than I will feel!”

“It is decided then,” said Georgiana, giving a faint smile. “And Aylmer, don’t stop, even if the birthmark ends up hiding in my heart.”

Her husband gently kissed her cheek—but not the one with the red hand.

The next day, Aylmer told his wife about a plan he had made. He needed to think deeply and watch her closely during the process. Georgiana would also need peace and quiet for the treatment to work. So they decided to stay in the large rooms Aylmer used as a laboratory. This was the place where, during his hardworking youth, Aylmer had made big scientific discoveries that impressed even the smartest people in Europe.

In that laboratory, Aylmer had calmly studied the secrets of nature. He had figured out how volcanoes keep burning, and how fountains spring from deep in the earth—some with pure water, others with healing powers. Long ago, he had also studied the human body and tried to understand how nature takes in air, earth, and spirit to create human life—her most amazing creation. But he had given up that study, realizing what all scientists eventually learn: that Mother Nature, though she seems open, hides her secrets well. She lets us destroy things, but rarely fix them—and never copy her work. Now, Aylmer took up these old studies again. Not because he had the same hopes as before, but because they were filled with truths about how the body works, and they were part of his plan to treat Georgiana.

As Aylmer brought Georgiana into the laboratory, she felt cold and shaky. Aylmer tried to smile at her to make her feel better, but when he saw how bright the birthmark looked against her pale skin, he suddenly shivered. He couldn’t hide it. Georgiana fainted.

“Aminadab! Aminadab!” shouted Aylmer, stomping his foot on the floor.

Right away, a short but strong man came out of a room nearby. He had messy hair hanging around his face, which was dirty from the smoke of the furnace. This was Aminadab, Aylmer’s assistant throughout his science work. He was very good with machines and tools. He didn’t understand the science behind what they were doing, but he could follow Aylmer’s instructions perfectly. With his large body, wild hair, and smoky smell, Aminadab seemed to represent physical strength. Aylmer, with his thin body and thoughtful face, seemed to represent the mind and spirit.

“Open the door to the sitting room, Aminadab,” said Aylmer, “and burn some sweet-smelling incense.”

“Yes, master,” said Aminadab, looking closely at Georgiana, who was still fainted. Then he mumbled to himself, “If she were my wife, I’d never try to get rid of that birthmark.”

When Georgiana woke up, she found herself breathing sweet, strong perfume. The smell had helped bring her back from her faint. The room around her looked magical. Aylmer had changed the dark, smoky rooms where he used to work into a series of beautiful rooms, perfect for a woman to stay in. The walls were covered with rich curtains, which made the room feel grand and soft. The curtains hung from the ceiling to the floor, hiding every corner and edge, making it feel like the room floated in the clouds.

Instead of letting sunlight in—which would have interfered with his experiments—Aylmer used sweet-smelling lamps that gave off lights of different colors. Together, the colors filled the room with a soft, glowing purple light.

Aylmer knelt beside his wife, watching her closely but not worried. He believed in his science and felt sure that he could protect her from any harm.

“Where am I? Ah, I remember,” said Georgiana softly. She put her hand on her cheek to cover the birthmark, afraid of what her husband might think.

“Don’t be afraid, my love!” said Aylmer. “Don’t hide from me. Believe me, Georgiana, I’m even glad for this one flaw, because it will be such joy to remove it.”

“Oh, please stop!” Georgiana said sadly. “Please don’t look at it again. I’ll never forget the way you shuddered when you saw it.”

To help calm Georgiana and take her mind off real worries, Aylmer showed her some light and fun tricks that he had learned from science, besides his deeper studies. Light, floating shapes—like ideas made of air—and images of magical beauty appeared and danced before her, leaving little glowing footprints in beams of light. Georgiana had a small idea of how these light tricks worked, but they were so perfect it almost felt like her husband could control the spirit world.

Then, when she wanted to look outside her quiet room, it was as if her thoughts were heard—moving pictures of the outside world appeared on a screen. The scenes and people looked real, but they had that special, dream-like quality that makes a picture feel more beautiful than the real thing.

When she grew tired of watching, Aylmer told her to look at a pot filled with dirt. At first, she wasn’t very interested. But soon she was surprised to see a small sprout rising from the soil. Then came the thin stem, and the leaves slowly opened up. In the middle of them was a perfect and lovely flower.

“It’s magic!” cried Georgiana. “I’m afraid to touch it.”

“Go ahead, pick it,” said Aylmer. “Pick it and smell its sweet scent while you can. It will fade in a few moments and leave only dry seeds behind—but from those seeds, new flowers like it can grow again.”

But as soon as Georgiana touched the flower, the whole plant became ruined. Its leaves turned black, as if they had been burned by fire.

“There was too much energy,” said Aylmer, thinking aloud.

To make up for this failed experiment, he said he would try to take her portrait using a new scientific method he had invented. The picture would be made by light shining on a shiny metal plate. Georgiana agreed. But when she looked at the result, she was scared—it was blurry, and her features couldn’t be seen clearly. But one thing was clear: the small shape of a hand appeared where her cheek should have been. Aylmer quickly grabbed the metal plate and threw it into a jar of strong acid.

Still, he soon forgot these disappointing failures. Between his studies and chemistry experiments, he would visit her—tired and red-faced—but full of energy just from being near her. He talked with excitement about the power of science. He told her stories of the old alchemists, who spent many years trying to find a special solution that could turn anything worthless into gold. Aylmer believed that, using clear and simple science, it might actually be possible to find such a solution. But he added, “If a scientist ever became wise enough to create it, he would also be wise enough not to use it.”

He had unusual ideas about the elixir of life, too. He hinted that he could make a drink to extend life for many years—maybe forever. But he believed such a drink would upset the natural order of the world and bring sadness to everyone, especially the person who drank it.

“Aylmer, are you serious?” asked Georgiana, looking at him with surprise and fear. “It’s frightening to have that kind of power—or even to imagine having it.”

“Oh, don’t be afraid, my love,” said Aylmer. “I would never use such strange powers to harm either you or myself. But think about this—how small and simple it would be, in comparison, to remove that tiny hand.”

As soon as he mentioned the birthmark, Georgiana pulled away, as if a hot piece of metal had touched her cheek.

Aylmer went back to his work. Georgiana could hear his voice from the far-off furnace room, giving orders to Aminadab. The assistant’s rough and strange voice answered him—it sounded more like a grunt or growl than real speech.

After being away for hours, Aylmer returned and said she should now look at his collection of chemical items and natural treasures. Among the bottles, he showed her a tiny glass vial. He said it held a gentle but powerful scent, strong enough to fill all the breezes blowing across a whole kingdom. It was very valuable, and as he spoke, he opened the vial and let some of the perfume into the air. It filled the room with a strong and refreshing smell.

“And what is this?” Georgiana asked, pointing to a small glass globe filled with a golden liquid. “It’s so beautiful that it looks like it could be the elixir of life.”